Don't Trust Me
by PrettyxInxSin
Summary: "Do you trust me?" Maybe Pyrope was right. Trusting a Makara might be the mistake of his life. AU, Humanstuck, Yorkstuck. Young!Ancestors, Grand Highbloood/Sufferer. Rated K for language.


A/N: I'm getting better at being active, I believe. My goal is to write at least once a week at about a thousand words. So far, they've all been Homestuck inspired, so I figured I'd come around and post again. ouo

This is a Humanstuck!AU involving Young!Ancestors this time, exploring the life they might have lived in a different time and place. It goes hand-in-hand with the Yorkstuck AU I participate in within my roleplay community. I hope you enjoy! Feedback and reviews are greatly appreciated.

(I think I have too many ideas, it might be time for me to just.../lays on the floor.)

* * *

"Do you trust me?"

No possible combination of those words, mixed with any tone, could ever come out being anything less than intimidating. Whether or not it was raised as a gentle murmur that tickled flesh was irrelevant; each letter only sought to agitate a pacing heart and make short work of vapid breath.

As if he hadn't already heard it, it was repeated again. One hand slips onto his thigh, gripping the muscle tight.

"Do you trust me, Kavi?"

He looks over – the driver, his best friend, was already glancing over him, indigo irises glinting with two parts mirth and one part mystery, an always steady combination with any Makara. It was just a given, to be handed vague answers that riddle the mind in mid-stride. He was left to wonder with nothing ever made certain.

Perhaps he needs to reevaluate his choices in friends.

'_You shouldn't do it, Vantas_. _Be around him, that is_.' Nia's warning is the first thing Kavi thinks of when he's about to respond. Of course, let it be her that speaks as the voice of reason. Teal lipstick and a coy smirk sit fresh in his mind, aviators polished over by peaking sunlight while she passes along backdoor wisdom in the alleyway of downtown Queens.

'_That's what you always say, Pyrope. Jahil's clearly not out to get us all the way you think_.'

'_That's what he'd want to hear_.'

'_I'm sure_.'

'_I'm being serious, Kavi. This is for your own good that I advise against having any relations with the man_.'

To which the brunette responded with a soft blush and a quiet murmur.

'_It's not like that_.'

'_Mhm_.'

'_How about you quit digging into my personal life? What I do and who I choose to affiliate with is none of your business_.'

'_I'm aware. I didn't come to force you into change. I'm just impressed that you even came to this little meeting._'

'_You make it sound as if I have lost my ability to empathize and council_.'

'_Being around him, you might as well_.'

The dashboard became the image of clicking heels as she turns away from him. Always professional, dressed to the nines in cherry red heels and teal pencil-top skirts with a stride that could crumble mountains – she was self-assured in her warning, her manner of conducting the transaction, and in every deduction she made.

He doesn't like it, much.

Coming back to the moment, he lets his hand rest on top of Jahil's, smile putting an upturn in his lips. What did she know?

What did anybody know? Logical deductions and opaque riddles did not stop his heart from beating 'yes' in every turn. An explanation as to why he had no doubt sat on the horizon, but stayed out of his reach.

He simply neglects to think any of it over and lets the moment win him over.

"I trust you."

Magic is in those words, for the warmth on his lap is taken away in favor of turning the ignition on, and the Cherokee is spurred into action. Three in the morning on a Saturday night and a pair of restless boys decide to tear up the streets, rushing past cars in kaleidoscope fashion. Objects lose form, and colors lose lines.

"Where are we going?!" Kavi has to shout over the rush of wind in their ears, hands gripping the rim of the roof while he tried to stare ahead. Several times was he certain that they'd hit somebody, or get caught by idle police cars. Wasn't that the fifth red light they just ran?

"Somewhere, motherfucker!" Is his only response. A swerve to avoid a parked car threw him into the side of the door.

"Fuck!"

"Sorry!"

"Jahil, if you don't – "

"Don't motherfuckin' worry about it!"

Again, another swerve. It takes every muscle in his arms to avoid getting launched into the dashboard once they come to a grinding halt; his hands were now gripping the rim so tight that his knuckles had turned white against his sun-kissed skin.

"Holy shit, what the fuck was that? We could have driven like normal people, you know!"

"Could've." He turns the car off and throws the keys in the back, arms resting on the wheel with a content smirk. "But why?"

"For the love of God you moronic douchefuck, I'm not trying to get killed!"

"Lighten up. Asked if you got to trustin' me and you says 'yes'. Think a motherfucker would ever let anything happen to you?"

"…Well…no, I just – "

"Relax. Need to live a little, Kav. Gonna get to turnin' eighteen tomorrow, right?"

Pause.

"Yes."

"Don't it feel good? The rush?"

"…yes."

He almost hated to admit to it, if only because he had face to save. He wasn't trying to let Jahil sit around and think that it was this easy to get him wound up, that it took very little for his fingers to tremble or for him to be left winded.

This was becoming a habit, this little addiction of his. Late night thrills and long conversations, soft pauses and closing distances…

"Good."

Maybe Nia was right. He's terrible. Horrible. What kind of person just gets to barge in and run around New York like they own the place, all the while win somebody over in the process? It'd be safer to disengage now before any lines were crossed.

"It's getting late…"

"Need to go?"

'_No.'_

"You know how my father is. He's gonna try and swing me around by a leash until the day he dies."

In this time, they are both inching closer. Kavi inches closer to the edge of the passenger's seat, and Jahil's hand snuck onto his thigh to gave it warmth, while the other moved to rest on the small of his back.

"Ain't no fun."

"I digress."

"Sure you gotta go so soon?"

"It'd be for the better…but, you know. Besides from almost getting fucking murdered…thanks for taking me out."

"Didn't even see where we are, motherfucker."

A few blinks, and he starts to turn his head to take in the surroundings. He simply assumed they drove into some abandoned lot, surrounded by dilapidated buildings that hid away from the glamor of the central city. Surprise comes easy, then, when he realizes they're on North Beach overlooking the water beyond.

"!"

"Haha, told you. Didn't even get to lookin'.

What he says next is the result of the rush that is making his veins itch for more ventures like this. A full moon, out on the bay in the arms of his best friend with his eighteenth birthday just hours away…

They sit around and describe these kinds of situations in all his favorite books and capture them in all his beloved movies, but never has the situation settled so heavily in his bones. There is no possible word he could conjure to capture this very moment; only that he wanted to get his hands in those long locks and pull him closer still, only that he never wanted this to end so soon.

"IthinkIloveyou."

A roar of laughter escapes Jahil, before he shakes his head.

"You think?"

"I-I yes, no, I don't…just shut the fuck up and kiss me already."

"Should be more polite about it if you want to get to kissin' a brother."

Stupid, infuriating Makara. He was doing it again, making indirect statements that had nothing to do with the context of this situation. Kavi was about to rip all that hair out if it meant closing the distance, but he didn't even get to twitch a pinky finger before he found himself settled on his lap, lips pressed together while moonlight beats down over their heads.

'_Never trust a Makara, Kavi.' _Once more, the rationale of Nia prods in the back of his mind while arms snake around a dark neck, pulling the driver closer still. He remembers her headed out into the street, turning just long enough to see the hesitation that lingered on his expression.

His response, was simple.

'…_what if I already do?'_


End file.
